


Let Me Have This Night

by winnerstick



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Porn, Dubious Consent, M/M, on both parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winnerstick/pseuds/winnerstick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted to memorize every dip, every line, and every mark upon his beautiful skin. He wanted to memorize the sounds he made and the way his shoulders rose when something pleased him to the point that he let out a shuddering breath. There was something poetic about the way he whined soft, breathy little whines of pleasure and the way his hands trailed on skin, leaving the flesh burning behind it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Have This Night

He wanted to memorize every dip, every line, and every mark upon his beautiful skin. He wanted to memorize the sounds he made and the way his shoulders rose when something pleased him to the point that he let out a shuddering breath. There was something poetic about the way he whined soft, breathy little whines of pleasure and the way his hands trailed on skin, leaving the flesh burning behind it.

Grantaire wanted to memorize everything. He wished he was half as poetic as Jehan and could put to words the way Enjolras was making him feel. The way his back arched up when Grantaire touched his hips achingly close to the true prize and the way he breathed out his disappointment every time, before pressing their lips together in another bruising kiss. Everything about the way Enjolras looked, sounded, and felt right now would make for hours upon hours of poetry, after only a few minutes of his clothes being shed.

They were torn haphazardly from their bodies and splayed across the floor of Grantaire’s bedroom. There was no rhyme or reason to the way they were taken off or where they were dropped, only that they formed a path to the bed. Everything about this was sloppy and spur of the moment. This hadn’t been planned or discussed in any sort of length. Neither one of them meant to end up in the other’s arms tonight, but they had, and now Grantaire was cherishing every second. Their thoughts were jumbled from the alcohol, Enjolras’s more tangled than Grantaire’s, though Grantaire would never call himself sober. Neither one was thinking clearly about what was happening, what they were doing, and something about that was tragically beautiful.

Enjolras never planned to scrape his nails—cut short from an attempt to keep him from chewing them mercilessly as he worked—down Grantaire’s back and Grantaire never planned to have one hand firmly planted on Enjolras’s lower back, holding him up, while the other tangled in his hair to keep their faces together. Their kisses were sloppy and every time teeth clashed they pulled back with slight cringes of apologies before they reconnected just as passionately, just as all-consuming, as before.

“Grantaire, please, can we—“ he never finished his sentence, though, because then Grantaire was lowering Enjolras to recline on the bed as the hand that had been in Enjolras’s hair now moved to stroke slowly down his chest. Enjolras closed his eyes and tilted his head up as one arm was slung over his face, hiding his eyes completely, and the other rested on Grantaire’s in its teasingly, torturously slow progression down his body.

There wasn’t much Grantaire wouldn’t have done just to hear and see Enjolras like this again. As he stroked Enjolras, upping his pace from the slow crawl he had been at before, Enjolras started to fall apart. Breathy moans left his parted and kiss-swollen lips and his chest heaved as he tried to keep a steady breath. As Grantaire kissed down his abdomen and slowed his strokes, the arm fell away from Enjolras’s face and even in his liquored state, the desire in his eyes was clear as blue eyes watched Grantaire take Enjolras into his mouth. Enjolras’s breath hitched and from that moment on the moans grew steadily louder as Enjolras fought tooth and nail to keep his body still, to let Grantaire keep control. 

He messed up a few times, thrust up as Grantaire was trying to take more into his mouth. The first time, his fingers tangled themselves into Grantaire’s curls and all was forgiven once Enjolras started stroking his head softly. He continued his hold, though his hand would slow to a stop in time with his moans. Grantaire kept his eyes on Enjolras’s face, watching the pleasure build until he let out a choked warning of half-formed words and Grantaire pulled away just in time for Enjolras to climax with an arched back and another half-formed word that sounded impossibly like Grantaire, but Grantaire wouldn’t allow himself to hope that far. Enjolras was, after all, drunk.

Grantaire crawled up to lay beside Enjolras and kissed his shoulder and neck as Enjolras recovered. He asked for nothing but happy accepted the way Enjolras’s head finally turned and their lips met again as Enjolras turned on his side. His hand found Grantaire’s hip and slid down until Enjolras was stroking him, never once missing a beat in their kisses.

As his orgasm built, Grantaire explored the contours of Enjolras’s body again. He trailed fingers over strong arms, the soft skin of his back, the odd texture of a scar on Enjolras’s hip. Not all of this would be committed to memory, but enough would be recalled for him to live off of for at least a month. After that, the feel of Enjolras’s fingers bringing him closer to the edge would become vague, foggy memories. The way Enjolras sucked at his neck as Grantaire came would only be remembered for the way it made Grantaire feel: like he was walking on air.

The soft breathing as Enjolras, finally spent, fell asleep beside him, would probably be ingrained in his mind forever. He would paint his sleeping Apollo for months after this night, and he would pretend that just having this night and Enjolras’ friendship was enough. He would pretend that it was all worth it to be part of a cause he didn’t believe in, just to hope Enjolras would prove him wrong. He would pretend that drunken kisses and the way Enjolras curled up to him as he slept off the effects of the drink was all he would need, as long as he had it for one night. But it would all be a lie, because it was never enough for him.

He wanted to memorize everything about the way this night was, but details would be lost along the way, as they were already slipping from his mind. He wouldn’t have another chance to refresh his memory. This was one night, one event, and a cheated one at best. It only held meaning to one person in the room, and that wasn’t the person fast asleep on Grantaire’s arm.

**Author's Note:**

> another request, this time angsty ~ of a drunken one night stand. again, you guys should follow me on tumblr? beartaire.tumblr.com


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